No Justice for the Dead
by Morganeth Taren'drel
Summary: Sam had watched it go down completely unable to stop it. There was nothing he could do to change it and no justice he could offer; the dead could do nothing.
1. Chapter 1

**AN**: The prompt for this story was Eyewitnesses; perhaps a literal interpretation of the word but it was the strongest idea that popped into my head. There could be another chapter to this story, the idea's there but I'm not sure if I can make it happen. Either way I hope you enjoy.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Supernatural

**No Justice for the Dead**

"Sir, can you tell me what you saw?"

Sam couldn't count the number of times he'd asked that question over the years; pretending to be: local Police, FBI, Federal Marshals, State Troopers, Park Rangers, hell even security employees. Whatever it took to get the answers they'd need to finish the hunt. Each role had been as easy to slip into as the last; it was part of the life to pretend he was someone else. He'd wished more than once that he was permanently someone else. But life had proven to Sam that a Winchester was all he'd ever be.

It felt odd to be on the other side of the question; odd and dangerous. It'd been less than a year since they'd been declared dead by Victor Henrickson but they were still playing it safe. The last thing either of them needed with the world coming to an end was to have the law on their tail again.

"Sir?" the officer spoke again reaching out to touch Sam's shoulder.

Instincts kicked in and Sam's head shot up; his feet shifting on the rough concrete side stepping the unwanted contact. "Sorry," he apologized allowing a nervous smile to pass across his lips. "Um, what was the question?"

"Can you tell me what you saw?" the man asked again, pen poised over his notepad.

Sam looked down the road where the majority of the flashing lights still clustered around the crime scene. He'd witnessed it all as the attack had gone down; felt powerless that he hadn't been able to stop it. He shouldn't have even been there but Dean had been late meeting up with him. "I didn't see much," lying came as easily to Sam as breathing. "I heard the shot, by the time I looked up the guy was already running away."

"Did you get a good look at him?"

Sam knew he could have picked the man out of a lineup easily. "I think he was around 5'10" stocky build, short brown hair with a black goatee." He paused for a moment as the police officer scribbled hurriedly into his notes. "He had a tattoo on the side of his neck," Sam continued pointing to the left side of his neck.

Sam glanced back towards the crime scene where the coroner was just now removing the girl's body. She hadn't stood a chance and Sam couldn't help but wonder if in a few years time she would be another of the spirits he and Dean had to hunt. She deserved justice for the life she'd lost.

"Do you remember any details of the tattoo?" the officer asked then, glancing back up at Sam's face.

The least he could do was offer a strong enough description that the police could actually find the man responsible. "I'm pretty sure it was a wolf," he said. Movement over the man's right shoulder caught Sam's attention and he saw Dean standing outside of the parameter. Hazel met green and even from that distance the message got across.

'_We need to go._'

Sam sighed; he knew it was true. "That's all I know," he lied again, though he was sorely tempted to say more. If he helped the police now might he be able to save Irene the pain of wandering the Earth looking for revenge? "Can I go?" he asked, eyes flickering again to his brother.

"I'll need your contact information, in case we need to call you in for a lineup," the man explained flipping to a new page in his notepad.

"Sure, Ethan Tanner," the name was the first that popped into his head. "Number's 555-4362," the number was legit but from a few years back.

"Alright," the man nodded his thanks, "We'll be in touch."

Sam watched the man walk away; his hand clenched into a fist as he looked around for any other possible eyewitnesses the police might have been speaking too. But wasn't surprised to see there was no one but bystanders lining the edge of the police tape. He sighed again finally forcing his feet to cross the distance to where Dean waited.

"What the hell happened?" Dean asked raising the police tape so Sam could duck under it; he still had to nearly bend double to fit.

Sam felt the eyes of onlookers watching them intently and he pushed his brother forward. "Not here," he said softly, hazel eyes focusing in on the Impala where she sat patiently waiting.

The younger Winchester leaned back listening to the rumble of the Impala; the familiar sound couldn't erase the equally familiar memory of the gunshot shattering the night. "I think she was leaving him," he began remembering clearly just how scared she'd looked when the man had screamed her name. "It was over before it'd even begun, he just shot her."

"There was nothing you could do Sam," Dean pointed out glancing across the car at him.

"Nothing I _could_ do," he agreed, "but I can make sure he pays for it."

Dean stared at him for a moment. "In case you've forgotten we're both supposed to be dead," he said bluntly. "We can't get involved in this," it was the harsh truth.

Sam nodded angrily looking out the window only to see his reflection staring back at him. "There's no justice for the dead..." Sam muttered bitterly.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


	2. Chapter 2

**AN**: Many thanks to those of you who asked for a second installment for this story. I hope it lives up to expectation and that you enjoy it!

Thanks to **the Cleric 007** for the super fast beta!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Supernatural

**No Justice for the Dead**

**Part Two**

"What have you got?"

Sam hardly heard his brother's question as he hacked into the police database for what had to be the twentieth time in the last two days. He was keeping a careful eye on their progress with the shooting death of Irene Atkins. He knew he should have put it out of his mind, focused his attention on the hunt, but Sam couldn't stop himself from feeling he needed to do more.

His description of the shooter had been enough for the police to find the man; their records showed his name was Daniel Stothart. The man had an impressive rap sheet, spanning across at least three states though he'd only been convicted once. It seemed he had an unnatural ability to beat the charge each time. From the looks of the reports, Sam was pretty sure intimidation silenced the witnesses every time.

Sam's free hand tightened around the edge of his laptop as he continued reading the most recent report. Stothart had been able to supply the police with an airtight alibi; it didn't matter that he fit Ethan Tanner's description perfectly or that the detectives didn't believe Stothart's story. Without an eyewitness to dispute the alibi witnesses, the police had no other choice but to let him go.

"Yo! Earth to Sammy!"

The younger hunter blinked to find his brother's hand waving in front of his face. "Huh?" he grunted, refocusing his attention on Dean who sat across from him in their motel room.

"I asked what do you have," Dean repeated his question leaning his elbows against the table. "We're looking for Rose Lincoln's grave, remember? The case?" he waited one eyebrow raised in question. "Any of this ringing any bells?"

Sam leaned back in his chair, pulling both hands through his shaggy hair. "Right..." he muttered, returning his attention to the laptop's screen, hazel eyes passing over Stothart's address.

"Dude, where's your head at?"

"I don't know," he lied dismissively, pushing his chair back from the table.

Dean reached for the laptop, turning it to face him. "You're still on about the shooting." He didn't need to make it a question as he saw the evidence first hand.

Sam got to his feet, hazel eyes scanning the room, catching sight of the Impala's keys resting on dresser against the wall. "I need to take care of this," he said firmly, swiping the keys before striding over to the door. He couldn't let Irene's death go unpunished; he couldn't play a part in her death.

"What the hell do you plan on doing?" Dean demanded; the sound of chair legs pulling at the carpet signaled Dean's rising from his seat.

He hesitated for a moment at the door, briefly glancing at his brother. "I don't know but I've got to do something."

"Sam wait!" Dean shouted after him but the younger Winchester didn't even pause.

Maybe Dean was content to let this go, to watch as the police could do nothing to find justice and Irene couldn't find her peace, but Sam wasn't. He could do something; he could make sure Daniel didn't kill anyone ever again.

He didn't know yet what he planned to do as he pulled the Impala out onto the main road. He was leaving his options opened but first he needed to find Stothart. Sam imagined John in this situation, as much as he could. John had always been out to protect innocents, even if it was only because protecting them came as a fringe benefit to killing every evil son of a bitch he came across.

Rolling to a stop on a deserted side road, Sam glanced up at the small apartment building before scanning the rest of the street. He spotted the unmarked police car immediately and would have expected it there even if he hadn't read the report.

Sam briefly considered his options; he couldn't let the police see him as they were also on the look out for Ethan Tanner and not just because he'd witnessed the shooting.

Getting out of the Impala, Sam carefully closed the door before making his way to the trunk. Opening the false bottom, the hunter surveyed the array of weapons and supplies. Killing Stothart wasn't an option though Sam thought it was no less than the bastard deserved. Sam reached for his gun, slipping it into the waistband of his jeans before pulling his hoodie back down over it. Checking his pocket for his set of lock picks, Sam stepped away from the Impala, keeping to the deep shadows as he made his way towards the low rise apartment.

Sam's cell buzzed insistently in his pocket and he didn't need to see the ID to know it was Dean. He pulled the device from his jeans and immediately shut it off; Dean would be pissed but this was something Sam knew he had to do. They just weren't seeing eye to eye like they used too; they'd always butted heads since they were children but not like this. Hell had changed Dean and, no surprise, it wasn't for the better.

Lights in the apartment building flicked off as people turned in for the night but on the second floor Sam could see a faint glow through partially opened curtains. Apparently Daniel Stothart wasn't among those early to bed. Sam made his way cautiously to the back door of the complex, secure in the fact that the police didn't have enough manpower and resources to cover Stothart from all sides.

He tested the lock before reaching for his tools and was rewarded to find it was already broken. Slipping inside the apartment, Sam quickly made his way to the second floor, Unit 3. He listened at the door, hearing the TV rumble through the thin wood. Sam unlocked the door with practiced ease before pulling out his Beretta.

Stepping inside the apartment, Sam quickly realized the only lights were the ones above the stove and the flickering of the television. The hunter could see Stothart where he relaxed in a well worn armchair; the side of his head just visible cheek resting on his fist.Sam came up behind the man, pressing the chromed barrel of his gun to Stothart's temple. The man gasped in surprise, body jerking in his recliner as his eyes flew wide; the expression only lasted a moment before he was glaring daggers at Sam.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, making a valiant attempt to sound sure of himself but Sam could hear the barely audible tremor of fear.

Sam leaned in close, keeping his voice low and threatening. "I'm the man who saw you shoot Irene Atkins in cold blood."

Daniel's eyes darkened, lips twisting into a sneer. "You're crazy, I wasn't even there! The police have nothing to hold me on."

The hunter shifted smoothly to stand in front of Stothart gun trailed on his head. "I'm not with the police," he pointed out simply.

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Doesn't matter what you believe," Sam warned, easing himself down on the coffee table, bringing himself to the other man's eye level. "I'm only going to give you one chance."

Stothart shifted uncomfortably but for the most part tried to maintain his control. "What're you going to do? Shoot me?"

Sam smoothly cocked the gun. "It's what you deserve," he replied evenly, index finger resting against the trigger. He watched in satisfaction as Stothart swallowed hard. "But I'll settle for you turning yourself in."

"You're crazy!" he repeated, voice pitched a few degrees higher with his rising fear; Sam could nearly smell it. "You won't get away with this."

The hunter smirked, leaning towards the other man. "The police can't prosecute a dead man," he let the words hang between them watching as Stothart's expression slowly changed. "So whatever you chose, you're not leaving here a free one."

"You can't do this," Stothart exclaimed, though there was nothing in the way of certainty in his voice.

Sam straightened up squaring his shoulders; the gun moving an inch towards Daniel's head. "Watch me," he warned, voice a deep growl.

---SPN---

"So, the paper says the shooter turned himself in," Dean began rather pointedly, "made a full confession and everything."

Sam glanced up from his research face betraying nothing. "Guess he couldn't live with the guilt."

"Right," he brother drawled and for a moment his green eyes watched Sam a little more intently as if trying to see inside his head.

He knew it was no mystery what had happened the other night. Dean had tried to confront him about it then but he hadn't particularly felt like discussing it and a day didn't change much. Sam was confident that Irene Atkins spirit would find peace now that her killer had confessed; leaving the Winchesters to continue their lives in the land of the 'dead.'

Sam refocused his attention on the hunt. With a little luck he and Dean would have it wrapped up by morning and could disappear from the town as if they'd never been. But that didn't mean the dead couldn't have their justice.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


End file.
